


Snared

by andstarswillscream



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Abuse, Flashbacks, Implied Relationships, Implied Sexual Abuse, Implied/Referenced Megatron, Lost Light 6 Spoilers, Other, Past Abuse, Physical Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Wing Mutilation, lost light spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-08
Updated: 2017-06-08
Packaged: 2018-11-10 17:36:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11131608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/andstarswillscream/pseuds/andstarswillscream
Summary: Starscream was almost certain that next move would be on him. Panic set into his frame, his body trembling. He couldn’t let this happen again.





	Snared

**Author's Note:**

> this is a megastar fic only so far as to say that what was going on really wasn't okay. anyways this is.... something very familiar to me and i really just. had to write it.

“We left him behind.”

The words were like the sounding of a gavel, the sound of absolution, of completion and ragged, hanging, loose ends all at once. There was a lurch in his tanks, something hard and heavy and familiar settling in them, uncomfortable. Starscream’s wings flared high, plating expanding in offence. They didn’t think he was idiot, did they? He sized the Prime up, unseating himself to land in front of the Lost Light’s captain, rank now rightfully restored. He circled Rodimus, hands balled into fists, held tightly behind him, just under his wings.

“You don’t expect me to believe that, do you?” His optics narrowed, casting a second’s glance at the entrance, as if Unicron himself were to tear through the doors. “I’ll ask again: Where is Megatron.”

Rodimus straightened his posture, pushing his chest plating forward, spoiler flaring, indignant. He spoke again, voice firm. “Not. Here. I told you, we left him in the Functionist Universe. He was late, and we had no time—“

“You let him get away.” Starscream interjected, pointing at Rodimus, fear and a sick sort of thrill boiling under his plating at the idea of Megatron having gone rogue, free to do as he pleased. He hated every moment of it.

Rodimus’s plating flared now, his fists clenching. “I did **not**. He ran out of time.” His voice was stiff, as if he was keeping himself from saying more.

The seeker pulled away from Rodimus, watching him frame slowly relax. Had he hit a sore spot? Something raw and bruised? Starscream gave it little consideration. His issue was Megatron, not whatever emotional baggage Rodimus had. 

“So he’s not here.”

“Yes, that’s what I’ve been **telling** you.” Something in Rodimus, between the vitriol which he spat and how his EM field radiated a sort of violence, and within the truth he spoke, had Starscream stepping back ever further. He wasn’t lying, if the look Ultra Magnus—Minimus Ambus, was giving him was any indication.

Megatron really was nowhere to be found.

Free.

He couldn’t undergo a trial if he wasn’t present. He couldn’t be punished if he was never found.

Starscream said the only thing he could muster. “Leave.” 

“What?”

“You’re dismissed.”

“There are still things that must be discussed—“ Minimus cut in, stepping forward.

“I said LEAVE.” Starscream snarled, pointing at the exit, his wings stiff and high. “Get out of here, all of you!”

They left together, and didn’t look back. Once the room was empty, his frame relaxed, trembling slightly as he mulled it over, clutching at his desk to stay balanced, powering down his optics. Megatron was free. He was still out there. They’d let him escape to some far off universe, where he could privately plot his next move.

Starscream was almost certain that next move would be on him. Panic set into his frame, his body trembling. He couldn’t let this happen again. And yet—

_He was held up by his throat, thumbs pressing in and threatening to crush the delicate wires and cabling, to destroy his vocoder. His pedes no longer touched the floor, but for once, being in the air was not a comfort. There was a sick smile on the mech below, his mighty leader, slowly crushing metal between his hands, cutting off the flow of energon in his systems. Megatron was talking but oh, he couldn’t hear him, couldn’t remember what he was saying. He’d given up on fighting, hands that once tried to loosen Megatron’s own falling to his sides, his vocoder glitching out, his own voice hissing static. Couldn’t speak. Couldn’t fight. Everything around him went dark, and he dropped to the floor. ___

__Starscream came back to himself, wheezing, hands flying to his throat cables, knees sore from the impact. He wasn’t safe here, it was too open, the windows — he could have changed alt modes again, he could fly, he could outlast him — Starscream picked himself up, scrabbling desperately to the door, away from the windows. He could call Ironhide, maybe some of the police force he was training to escort him home, but he knew Megatron. Megatron wouldn’t let cannon fodder get in the way, he’d come as he pleased. He’d kill them just as easily as he could let his hands wander on Starscream’s frame, drawing him back in as easily as ever._ _

__And it would happen all over again. Megatron would steal his throne, his council, Megatron would praise him just as quickly as beat him, it would never end again, not with the resources he’d have on hand._ _

__Starscream was more than convinced Megatron was going to kill him, then and there. That he was behind every door, every corner, that he was at the large window, under the desk, behind the walls, waiting to strike and ensnare Starscream once more. It took everything in him to keep heading for the door, just to close and lock it. He clutched the control panel for the window, making it into a one way screen. He could see outside, but no one outside could see in. He pulled himself together enough to make it into a corner, hyperventilating as memories kept resurfacing, of how to felt to be beaten through an asteroid, of comments that stung to remember but for the life of him, he couldn’t remember what they said._ _

__Of Megatron enjoying every bit of this, of him fighting to escape, to kill him, to be free. Of Megatron taking acute pleasure in his voice losing the beautiful quality it once had, to be replaced by a cry of help only another vosian would know. Of good things being ruined, utterly devastated._ _

__Of his trine doing nothing. Of them watching this happening, of Thundercracker looking away, of Skywarp going quiet. Of neither of them standing for him._ _

__And then there were hands on his wings, leaving indents in the metal as they were torn from him, pain shooting through him, as new and fierce as it’d been when the incident happened. He trembled, cowering in the corner of the room, panic and a deep, lingering pain settling into his core. His spark pulsed, feeling like it was shrinking, like he was dying, like Megatron’s hand had wrapped around it and _squeezed.__ _

__He sat there for a good, long while, soon sliding to the floor, forcing back the contents of his tanks as they rose in his throat. Not here. Not here, not now. He wasn’t going to let Megatron find him laying in a puddle of his own mess. It was bad enough he’d resorted to cowering on the floor._ _

__He didn’t dare pull himself up. He couldn’t trust his legs to hold him, with how they shook. Something in him told him to call for someone, for anyone to come help him, reassure him, before they all left for the night._ _

__He didn’t. He couldn’t._ _

__Megatron had changed, they said. Insisted. It was a choice he made. He’d renounced violence, even in the face of losing crewmates._ _

__Then why did it still feel like he was doing this to him? Why did Megatron’s mere presence, his continued and prolonged existence, feel like an act of violence against him?_ _

__Why had he wanted to visit him, other than to check on the trap he’d laid?_ _


End file.
